


Two Hawkes are better than One

by Defira, KitiaraM



Series: Two Hawkes [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitiaraM/pseuds/KitiaraM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when none of the LI's provided 'work' for you? You go find your own. In another universe if you have to. Prompted after Defira gave my Hawke a cameo in her epic Broken Souls.  (Previously posted on dA, I've changed the title to what I meant for it to be to begin with. Plus minor edits here and there.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She looked around cautiously, trying not to show her nervousness. She wasn't used to being nervous --at least she thought she wasn't-- but ever since she'd woken this morning, things had been... strange. 

First of all, finding herself on a wild, deserted coast, rocky and dangerous-looking, for all the world as if she'd washed up from a shipwreck. There were indeed wrecked ships in the water, but the only ones visible had obviously been there for some time. She had no tent, no bedroll, no pack; just the armor on her back and twin daggers. There was a pouch at her belt but it only held some coins. A larger one on the back of the belt held some vials, flasks, and other sundries.

And she couldn't remember a damned thing.

Where had she come from? Blank. How did she get here? Blank. Where WAS here? Blank. What was her name? Irritatingly, annoyingly, terrifyingly, blank. 

She felt her head; no knots. No injuries elsewhere on her body, either, although she found numerous scars. She couldn't even dredge up a memory of what she looked like! Although... she looked cross-eyed at the hair dangling in her eyes. White? Was she an elf? No, her ears felt normal. 

She found a tidal pool that gave her a washed out reflection of a young-looking face. She traced the tattoos along her cheekbones curiously. It was hard to tell but her eyes looked grey. And her hair was definitely, startlingly, white. Well, at least she wasn't ugly, or old. Perhaps she'd had a shock; she'd heard that could turn a person's hair white, though she couldn't remember who said that.

She wasn't going to get any answers here. Perhaps there was a town nearby, something to jog her memory. She found a path leading away from the rocky coastline and began walking. 

Now she was wandering the streets of the city the path had led her to, a city that felt eerily familiar. It was maddening! She _knew_ the street forked ahead, and that there was a market around the next corner--and nothing else. The streets were crowded with people, and she didn't recognize a damned one of them. 

She stopped abruptly. A male dwarf and a human woman were walking towards her, talking animatedly. That wasn't unusual; she'd seen many dwarves and elves. What was unusual was the shock of recognition. The woman was exotically dusky, dressed in what could only be charitably called clothing. It barely covered the minimum for public decency. The dwarf was gesturing expansively as they neared her, and she trembled, waiting for them to see her, waiting for them to say, "Hey, it's--"

They looked up--and walked by her, still talking. "Impossible! I've had hundreds of those in my hands, and they're _never_ that size," the woman laughed. 

She spun to watch them walk away. The dwarf sighed. "Would I lie about something so critical?" They disappeared into the milling mass of people and were gone. 

So, they didn't know her. To her horror tears welled up in her eyes, but she couldn't fight them, or the feeling of utter desolation that threatened to overwhelm her. She began walking again, not paying attention to where she was going. She simply had to be moving.

Her vision wavered, making the view ahead of her smear in bright-colored blurs. So she didn't see the man turning away from a merchant until they collided with each other. She staggered and almost fell, but strong hands grasped her upper arms and held her steady. 

"Sorry, miss, I didn't see--whoa, no need for tears!" The grip on her arms loosened, but didn't let go. The voice was deep and vibrant, with an accent that -again- felt familiar. It continued, more gently. "I'm sorry; are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I? My sister says I'm a clumsy oaf that shouldn't be allowed to roam without a leash, but then she's usually the one that bears the brunt of my oafish behavior."

She blinked at the onslaught of words, and to clear her eyes. She found herself looking up into a craggy, handsome face framed by a shock of black hair. It fell over his forehead at a rakish angle, echoed by the short beard. Eyes of warm brown sparkled at her, crinkling at the edges as if inviting her to share the joke.

She couldn't help but smile back tentatively. "No, it was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going." He still held her by the arms and she said more firmly, "I'm fine."

"Oh, sorry." He released her but didn't go on his way, instead eyeing her with an odd intensity. "Pardon me for disagreeing, but you don't look fine. You look," he hesitated, searching for the right word, "lost."

At the reminder her traitorous eyes filled again. 

"Damn it, please stop that!" he said hastily. "Here, I have a handkerchief here... somewhere...." He rummaged frantically in his pouch for a moment before extracting a wadded lump of linen and extending it to her. "It's, ah, not that clean, I'm afraid. Didn't know I'd be encountering beautiful damsels in distress today, so I, uh... oh, take it."

She accepted it hesitantly. Beautiful? He must be trying to cheer her up. The handkerchief wasn't too filthy; she found a semi-clean section and dabbed at her eyes before holding it out to him. "Thank you."

He gestured back at her. "Keep it, please." He laid a hand dramatically over his heart. "It will give my day meaning to know that such a lovely lady carries my token." He winked outrageously.

She felt an eyebrow arch. So, he thought himself a dab hand with the ladies, did he? She'd met his type before... somewhere. But there was a cheerful, almost puppy-like eagerness to him that belied the roguish airs. "It's not a token; it's a dirty handkerchief," she said drily. "And you don't look like any knight I've ever seen." Had she ever seen any knights? Ugh, this was so frustrating!

He rocked back on his heels, hands on his hips arrogantly. “Of course it’s a token; see, my initial is on it.” Sure enough, in one corner mostly hidden by what looked like an ale stain, was a florid “H” picked out in red thread. “For Hawke. Garrett Hawke, that is.”

She froze. Hawke?! It meant something, something important—but what?

Mistaking her expression for awe, he grinned. “Heard of me, have you? I’m not surprised; I’m rather well-known.” He looked down modestly, but the act was marred as he darted a quick look to see if she was buying it.

She’d just add it to the pile of familiar things that were driving her mad. “No, actually I was just shocked you knew Hawke started with an H.” 

“Ouch, that hurt!” He actually managed an injured expression. Briefly. “And what’s your name? You must be new to the city; I’m sure I would have heard of a silver-eyed goddess in mortal form before now, otherwise.”

 _Did he actually just say that with a straight face?_ “My eyes are grey!” she snapped, ignoring his question. 

“Normally I hate to argue with gorgeous women, but I must respectfully disagree. A more plebian person than myself might possibly, vilely give such a mundane description, but I pride myself on being more eloquent, and your sparkling, scintillating orbs are most definitely, indubitably, silver.” He grinned and she blinked, mesmerized by the flow of words. He didn’t give her time to react. “And you didn’t answer me. You admitted our collision was your fault, so you owe me. All I ask is your name.”

Her chest felt far too tight as she stared at him. The constant fear she’d kept at bay all day crashed in on her and something just—snapped. Suddenly she was angry. No, that was far too mild a description. Towering blind rage? Yes, that fit.

“I don’t know _WHAT_ my name is! I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I have had _ENOUGH_ of this bullshit! I’m going to kill someone if I can’t remember something, _ANYTHING_ , soon!” She‘d started out in a low voice, biting off each word, but by the end she was nearly screaming. She stopped, breathing hard and staring at his astonished face. Passersby were giving them a wide berth, pretending not to stare. The rage spilled out of her, leaving her drained.

“I have to go.” She turned abruptly and walked away.

“Wait!” She ignored the call behind her.

He dashed in front of her, forcing her to halt or run into him. Again. He held his hands up to stop her. “You can’t say something like that and just walk away.”

She glared. “Why not?”

“Well, because… because now you’ve got my curiosity up! One of my few failings, I’m afraid; I have this need to investigate mysterious happenings. Sort of like a cat, I suppose; I just have to poke my nose into things. And this! A beautiful woman with no name bumps into me, steals my heart and then tries to vanish from my life?”

She stared at him, totally flummoxed. “You used ‘beautiful’ already,” she said inanely. “If you were trying not to repeat yourself. And the ‘stole my heart’ line is way, WAY over the top.”

He just grinned again, ignoring her comment. “Here, how about this: I’ll buy you something to eat, and you can tell me your story.” Without waiting for a reply, he stepped beside her and put his arm around her, urging her along. 

She started to protest and he shushed her. “Now, now, no argument. You said you were hungry, and have you got anything better to do?”

Her mouth shut. No. No, she didn’t. She let him guide her along the streets as he kept up a running monologue, making sardonic comments about the passersby, pointing out spots where he’d apparently routed huge gangs of thieves… she soon tuned him out, just nodding periodically. Before too long they were sitting in a quiet corner of a tavern in a better part of town than where they’d… met. He refused to let her speak until she’d eaten, not that she knew what to say.

Finally she sat back, covering her mouth to let a discrete burp escape. He grinned. He seemed to do that a lot. “Feeling better?”

She nodded. “Much, thank you.” She reached for her pouch. “I can pay-“

“Nope, I insist. I invited you, so I pay. Besides, it’s the least I can do for such a-“

Now she cut him off, rolling her eyes. “Please, no more flowery compliments. They aren’t going to get me into your bed.”

“I’m wounded that you think me so shallow! And on such short acquaintance, too.” He really was very good at those expressions. She could almost believe she’d hurt his feelings, except for the hint of a devilish glint in his eyes.

She eyed him. “I know your type. You never remember a woman’s name once they’re out of sight, anyways.”

Instead of being insulted, he laughed. “Oh, I guarantee you’ve never met anyone like me before. I’m unique. But, tell me your story. Maybe I can help; you never know.”

She sighed, but really, why not? She related everything she knew, which didn’t take long. When she finished, he sat thoughtfully for a moment. “So, you wake up on the Wounded Coast, but there’s no ship.”

“Wounded Coast? That sounds familiar. Is it on the Bloody Ocean?” she quipped.

He threw back his head and roared laughter. “Finally! Someone who thinks the way I do!”

“Now, that’s scary,” she muttered. 

He ignored her comment, still smiling hugely. “I thought it should be Massive Head-trauma Bay.”

“Of course, under the Scarred Bluffs, leading into the Sucking Chest-wound Sea?”

His eyes sparkled. “You’re not supposed to one-up me!” He seemed pleased rather than offended, though. “Oh, and speaking of names --which, sore subject, I know-- but I have to call you something. “’Silver-eyes’ is descriptive, but…”

She scowled. “I told you, they’re grey.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I can come up with even more descriptive terms than earlier,” he warned. “And stop spitting at me! Reminds me of a cat that—“ He slapped his hand on the table, making her jump. “That’s it!” He beamed at her. “Kitti!”

“Kitti?” She rolled it around in her head. It felt… not right, but not exactly wrong, either. And what did it really matter? Wasn’t one name as good as another, if she couldn’t remember what her real one was? “Fine. Sure.”

“All right, ‘Kitti’, what are your plans?”

She slumped in her seat, depressed again. “I… I don’t know. I’ve walked all over this damned city—“

“Kirkwall,” he supplied helpfully.

“The City of Chains?” Now where had THAT come from? She was so focused on trying to cudgel more from her recalcitrant brain she almost missed the way his mouth tightened. She growled, “I can remember that, but I can’t remember my family! Or if I even have a family!” That… hurt more than she realized. “It seems that general knowledge is all still there when I think about it, but anything personal is just… gone. I see places, things, even people that I almost recognize, but it’s like they’re from a dream I forgot when I woke up.” She slapped the table. “It’s pissing me off!”

He waited while she fumed, seeming to realize that trying to calm her down would probably just piss her off more. When she threw up her hands in frustration and sat back, he leaned forward and laid his hands on the table. “I have contacts all over the city. I can ask around, see if anyone’s heard of you. Shouldn’t be hard; you’re rather memorable.” He winked and rushed on. “In the meantime, you need a place to stay. Now, don’t get your back up, but my place has a few empty rooms, and” he held up a finger to forestall her, “don’t give me that look, my mother lives there too, and she would tear strips from my hide if I took advantage of a… woman.” 

“At least you didn’t say ‘helpless’,” she muttered. He just smirked and she eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you offer to help me? You don’t even know me; shit, I don’t even know me,” she ended bitterly.

“I had some good news and I’m feeling generous, what can I say?” At her look he shook his head. “Maker, you’re suspicious! Look, from your accent you’re a fellow Fereldan. When my family,” his mouth tightened again, “or what was left of it—arrived here a few years ago fleeing the Blight, we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. And, of course, my brain and brawn. Now I’ve got it pretty good, and well, let’s just say I’d like to help a countryman.” He saw that she still was dubious. “Just… come with me, meet my mother, then you can decide, all right? This city is dangerous for a person alone.”

Despite his assumption that she couldn’t look after herself, she really didn’t have to think for very long; it wasn’t like she had so many choices. And his expression, like a lost puppy begging to be held, had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

*****

She gazed around the large hall as Garrett and his mother (“Call me Leandra, dear”) discussed some party they were having. By now she was almost used to the little shocks of recognition, but this was getting ridiculous! How in the name of Andraste’s left tit could she know Hawke’s mother?! Although something seemed a little… different And yet he himself was a complete stranger. Surely she would have remembered such a bombastic, arrogant, smarmy, good-looking—she stopped herself, shocked. Where had that come from? 

She glanced surreptitiously at him as he argued some point with Leandra. Well, he was handsome, she wouldn’t deny that. Tall, well-muscled from swinging that huge sword, and hmm, even his armor couldn’t hide a very nice ass. She looked away, fighting off a blush. What the bloody blazes was wrong with her? 

Interrupting her thoughts, a low growl sounded behind her and she turned to see a mabari walking stiff-legged towards her. She knelt and held out her hand, palm down. “Hey there, big guy.” He sniffed it and gave her a steady, appraising look before woofing gently. She took that as an invitation to scratch behind his ears, and he promptly dropped down and rolled over on his back, begging for a belly rub. She grinned and obliged him. Looking up she caught Garrett standing over her with an odd look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said hastily.

She let a smile show. “Did I pass?” She smirked at his expression. No one looked that innocent without being guilty of something. Mabaris were known to be fairly good judges of character; she didn’t blame him for using the dog as a barometer.

He loftily ignored her. “C’mon Rabbit, quit bothering our guest.” The mabari whined but after licking her face from chin to cheek, obediently trotted over to the fireplace to lie down. She shook her head in disbelief. Of course, he named a fierce war-hound Rabbit. As she stood, Garrett muttered something that sounded like “lucky dog”. 

She felt her lips curving up in a smug smile. “What, you want your belly rubbed too?” she asked archly. His gaze snapped to her face and he took a step towards her.

“Garrett,” his mother called. “We still need to finalize some things.” The look on his face was priceless as he hesitated, mouth open. Finally he snapped it shut, throwing her a look promising dire retribution and turned back to Leandra.

She went back to studying the house, a small smile still on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A minor revelation. Can't sleep? A brisk fight, just the thing!

She woke with a gasp, sitting straight up in the comfortable bed. It took a moment for her to orient herself. She'd been dreaming something. It was gone, now. 

She crawled out of bed with a sigh and sat on the edge, head in hands. She fingered the amulet she'd found upon removing her armor, turning it over to read the faint inscription again. _"To Kaja, Love Mother."_ She'd gotten so excited, she had almost run to find Garrett and tell him, getting as far as the door before reconsidering. The name didn't trigger any memories at all, so why disturb him? She hadn't discovered anything new but the name, and she wasn't going to inflict on him the severe depression that resulted. 

Worn out emotionally and physically she fell asleep with the faint hope that she would rise the next morning and remember everything. Here it was the middle of the night and nothing. 

She punched the bedspread and stood. A restless urge was upon her; she wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon. She quietly dressed and slipped out of the room. A few moments later she was closing the front door behind her. 

The night air was cool and damp, tasting faintly of the sea as she inhaled deeply. The need to simply be _moving_ drove her out into the city, keeping to the shadows to avoid notice, turning almost mindlessly in whichever direction took her fancy at the moment. She tried not to think at all.

She found herself at last on the docks; unless she could walk on water she could go no further. She stared at the monolithic building across the water, the noisome smells of the harbor thick in her nostrils. Something had drawn her here, something that meant a great deal to her.

"Oi, watch where yer tossin' that! Almost clipped me, ya did!" Angry at the interruption of her reverie, she glanced down to see the small boat bobbing at the end of the pier, and the scruffy men unloading small crates from it. Smugglers. Wonderful. She backed away cautiously, fighting the urge to leap down there and take them out. _It's not any of my business, and I'm out here alone_ \- she froze as some sixth sense blared a warning. 

Too latehands caught her in a harsh grip, turning her around. "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, sweetness." The men behind the speaker laughed coarsely. He eyed her appraisingly. "I think we'll go in the warehouse for a little fun, first, though." He licked his lips. 

She felt her own lips draw back in a feral smile. A lightning-like current jolted her senses, making everything seem sharp and clear. "Why not have some fun right here?" She wanted to laugh at his confused look. 

She slammed her head forward into his face, breaking his nose immediately and sending him staggering back into the others. In a flash the daggers were in her hands and now she did laugh as she flitted from target to target like a lethal whirlwind. All her pent-up frustration and anger was washed away in the rush of adrenaline.

She looked down at the bodies at her feet, feeling almost disappointed. The clattering of booted feet on the ramp announced the arrival of the crew from the boat and her eyes brightened. These were more of a challenge, better armed and wary of her now. Almost too much of a challenge; she found herself hard pressed, having to dance away to keep from being surrounded. 

A thunderous bellow sounded behind her and Garrett plunged past her, plowing into the pack. Rabbit charged in on his heels, leaping to tear at throats as his master laid about him with the massive sword. Growling almost as murderously as the mabari, she darted back into the fray. 

They were falling almost too easily. Two of the smugglers apparently decided that crates of contraband weren't worth their lives and took off towards Lowtown. A quick glance assured her that Garrett and Rabbit were on top of things, and she dashed off after the fleeing pair. Fear lent them speed; she chased them up stairs and around a few corners before she was able to bring them down.

She stood over the bodies, getting her breath back, only to freeze as a voice demanded, "Drop your weapons!" The point of a sword pressed into her back, emphasizing the order. Holding her arms out, she let the daggers drop to the ground and turned slowly. Wonderful, a city guard. She opened her mouth to explain.

"Stand down, guardsman, she's with me." Garrett swaggered into view, sword over his shoulder. Rabbit trotted over to her and licked her hand. 

"Ser Hawke!" The woman nodded at him as she lowered her sword. "Sorry, I thought-- what happened?"

"Brennan, isn't it?" At the guard's nod, he went on, "Smugglers. Silly gits attacked, and well, the usual happened." He cocked his head back the way they'd come. "The boat and crates are back there, along with the rest of the bodies." He smirked. "Sorry for the mess, but the loot should cover the clean-up."

Scowling to herself, Kaja went to pick up her daggers while he was speaking with the guard. She cleaned them off carefully and sheathed them as she waited. Finally Brennan left to report the incident and they were left alone.

She stalked up to Garrett. "What the fuck were you doing?" she demanded angrily.

He blinked down at her. "No, no, the correct response is: 'Thank you, kind ser, for saving my life! How can I ever repay you?'" He smirked.

"I had everything under control!" she huffed. "You didn't have to butt in!"

"But it looked like you were enjoying yourself far too much! I couldn't let you have all the fun." His eyes gleamed as he gave her an appreciative look. "I admit, I could have just admired the view, watching the sexy, mysterious lady tear through a bunch of low-life scum, but," he sighed theatrically, "I have a responsibility, you know. The big manly warrior is supposed to dash in all heroically and save the day. "

Her lips twitched. Maintaining her anger in the face of his obvious admiration and outright silliness proved impossible. She felt her cheeks burning a bit as she muttered, "Oh, well it looks like you know how to handle that sword pretty well yourself." She reddened further as she realized how that sounded. "I mean-" Her eyes fastened on his arm and she promptly forgot her embarrassment. "You're bleeding!" She realized something else. "Maker's breath, Garrett, why aren't you wearing armor? You just charged into a fight in your house clothes? Blood and bloody ashes!" she swore, fumbling at her pouch. 

He lifted his arm to look at the sluggishly bleeding slash high on one bicep. "I didn't have time, if I was going to catch up to you," he answered mildly. 

She spared him a fierce glance as she pulled out bandages and a small jar of poultice. "Get that off; I can't bandage your arm over it, and I want to see if you got hit anywhere else." 

"Ooh, I knew you couldn't resist my obvious charms!" He raised a hand in mock fear as she glared. "All right, all right!" He sat on the barrel she indicated and pulled off the sashed tunic, hissing as he pulled it over the gash. 

She worked quickly, slathering the poultice on the cut before wrapping the cloth bandage around his arm. She tied it off with a brisk tug, making him wince. "This will do until you can get home and clean it. How did you find me, anyways?" Rabbit gave a quiet bark behind her, making her jump. "Oh." 

She found a few more minor cuts; amazingly few, really, considering how many opponents he'd faced, and only wearing a light tunic. She realized she was babbling to herself, trying to distract herself from the view of his half-naked body as she daubed healing poultice on the injuries. It wasn't working. She found herself eyeing the broad shoulders, the well-muscled torso, the thick dusting of hair down his chest, narrowing to a thin trail thatshe jerked her eyes away. _You'd think I've never seen a man with his shirt off before. But maybe I haven't how do I know? He is well-built, I'll give him that. Too bad he knows it--_

"What were you doing all the way down here, anyway?" His sudden question made her jump again. 

She concentrated on getting the cap back on the jar, wiping her hands off, putting everything away any excuse not to look at him. "I just had to get out for a bit, walk off some frustration." She turned and walked over to the low wall to look out over the moonlit harbor. She had moved away to give her blush time to cool, but again her attention was drawn to the looming edifice on the other side, pinpricks of light visible even at this late hour.

He came to stand beside her, slipping the tunic on carefully over the bandaged arm. His gaze followed hers. "That's the Gallows. Where they keep the mages."

She looked at him curiously. His lips were tight and there had been something in his voice -some suggestion of pain, regret- that mirrored her own feelings. As if he sensed her eyes on him, he immediately straightened his shoulders. "It's probably not a good idea to be just standing around the docks in the middle of the night. We should head back." He met her look with a wink. "Unless you're not sufficiently cured of your frustration; then we can try to find some more smugglers or thieves."

She chuckled. "I wouldn't want to deny you a chance to show off again. But I think I'm feeling a little more relaxed now."

"Well, then, shall we?" He bowed floridly and offered his arm. She shook her head at his irrepressible behavior but there was a small smile on her face as she accepted. 

They were halfway back to Hightown before she remembered she had news. "Oh, I found something under my armor-" 

He quirked an eyebrow and her cheeks warmed again. Why, by the Void, was everything she said coming out with double meanings?! She hastily dug a finger under the collar of her chest-piece, finally succeeding in pulling out the fine chain. She held the amulet out and he took it, bending his head down close to peer at it curiously by the light of a nearby torch. She found herself staring at his hair; it was mussed and she had the insane urge to straighten it with her fingers. _Maker, what is wrong with me?_

Oblivious to her thoughts he read the inscription aloud. "Kaja, eh? I was sort of close." He glanced up at her. "Pretty name but you don't seem very excited about this discovery."

She shrugged self-consciously. "It's nice to know, but without knowing anything else it seems a little premature to get excited about it." 

Absently he turned the amulet over, and whistled. "This is a hawk!" He gave her a grin. "Maybe you're a long-lost cousin of the Hawke family." He winked slyly. "Hopefully not too close a cousin." 

She snatched the amulet out of his hand and tucked it back inside her armor. He chuckled, still standing entirely too close for comfort. She found herself praying fervently, not quite sure whether she wanted him to move away or closer yet. _It's just leftover excitement from the fighting, or that he's really the only person I know in this benighted city, or both._ "I thought you said we should get back to the house," she said as casually as she could manage.

He didn't move, only looking at her for a long moment, until she finally stirred restlessly. "What?"

"You have the most adorable earlobes." He gave her what was probably supposed to be a sexy smile. 

She just stared. _And then he opens his mouth_ Shaking her head in disbelief, she started walking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not MY party...

She was _not_ nervous. Not at all. Just because Garrett insisted she attend his birthday party –and his mother had backed him up—a party where she would know absolutely no one…. “But it will be a perfect opportunity to see if there’s anyone that knows who you are!” she mimicked Garrett’s reasoning to her image in the mirror. She sighed. 

For most of the morning she’d traipsed along behind Garrett as he criss-crossed the city, running last minute errands for his mother in preparation for the party and checking in with his ‘contacts’… and not a single person had shown any sign of recognition whatsoever. 

She’d begged off after lunch, too dispirited to continue subjecting herself to the constant surges of hope, followed by disappointment. Garrett had muttered something about a few more things to take care of and taken off. After a short nap, she felt refreshed enough to find Leandra and offer whatever help she could. She had plenty of time to regret that as she polished an endless stream of tarnished silver. 

Now she turned from the mirror to glare at the fancy dress lying on the bed. “Stupid, arrogant, pushy… _male_!” she muttered. She picked up a sleeve between thumb and forefinger, then let it drop disdainfully. Her armor was perfectly fine –once she’d cleaned it- and she saw no reason to wear a dress just because _he_ wanted it. Bad enough that he’d coerced her into the party in the first place -and only because he’d gotten Leandra on his side- but damned if she’d be more uncomfortable than she had to be! She left the room, shutting the door a little more firmly than was necessary. 

Of course she ran into Garrett almost immediately. He saw her and his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t changed yet?”

“It didn’t fit,” she lied. “Besides, if there is anyone that knows me, I wouldn’t want them to be confused by seeing me in a dress.”

“And after I went to all that trouble to find the perfect setting for your beauty,” he pouted. 

She crossed her arms and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “When are you going to realize that isn’t working?”

Now he tried for a hurt expression. “You wound me!”

“I’m about to,” she growled. 

A grin broke through. “Now you sound like Aveline.” At her look he added, “Friend of mine; you’ll meet her tonight.” He changed tacks. “C’mon, please wear it? For meeee?” he wheedled.

She uncrossed her arms and clenched her fists at her side. “I’m warning you, Garrett….”

Apparently he didn’t hear the menace in her tone, or didn’t believe it. “Pleeeeeeeeese?” 

She punched him.

He wheezed, falling back against the wall. “I can’t… believe… you hit me… on my… birthday!”

She folded her arms again. “That’s why I didn’t hit your face. Can’t have the guests wondering why you have a black eye.” She smiled sweetly. “Happy birthday.”

He coughed, sliding to the floor. “I think you broke a rib. Probably punctured a lung, and now I’m going to die. On my birthday.” He coughed again, even more unconvincingly, and flopped his head back, eyes closed. 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, good evening, Leandra,” she said loudly.

He was on his feet so fast he swayed. He looked frantically up and down the corridor before giving her a baleful look. “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

“And you are a silly, silly man!” she retorted. 

He sighed. “I’m so misunderstood,” he said woefully. “Fine, you don’t have to wear the dress-“

“Oh, thank you for that,” she interjected sarcastically.

“But would you at least consider letting your hair down?” he continued, manfully ignoring her interruption. “Not that that hairstyle doesn’t suit you,” he added hurriedly, “but, it is a party, and perhaps something a little less… severe?”

He wasn’t using that annoying, wheedling tone anymore, and she hesitated. “I just don’t like my hair in my eyes,” she evaded. 

Sensing her hesitation, he pressed, “Oh, I can take care of that!” At her suspicious look, he spread his hands. “What? I used to fix Be—my sister’s hair when she was little.”

There it was again; that hint of pain and regret in his eyes. Without quite knowing why, she nodded. “Fine.”

By the time she was sitting in front of the vanity in her room and he was standing over her with comb in hand, she was having second thoughts. And third ones, and fourth ones…. She hadn’t thought about how… personal it was, having someone fiddle with her hair. To make matters worse he wouldn’t let her face the mirror. But, she’d agreed. Well, if she didn’t like it, she could brush it out and put it back in the ponytail, no matter what _he_ wanted. 

Her hands kept wanting to fidget as he removed the band and started combing her hair out, and she clasped them together tightly in her lap. Nervously she said the first thing that entered her mind. “So, you used to fix your sister’s hair?” He hadn’t mentioned other siblings before now-although, hadn’t he said something about ‘what was left’ of his family arriving in Kirkwall?

His hands stilled for a moment before continuing their careful motions, gently working through incipient tangles. It was actually somewhat soothing, and she closed her eyes. The silence stretched out until finally he sighed.

“Bethany and Carver were twins, a few years younger than me.” His voice was carefully devoid of emotion. “Being the oldest, I had the job of watching them; I was supposed to keep them out of trouble.”

She couldn’t help it. “You?” she asked, gently teasing. 

He actually chuckled a little at that, and she relaxed. He started separating sections of her hair, combing each one carefully. When he continued speaking his tone was somewhat lighter. “Yes, well, we did get into some scrapes. We’d get home all disheveled, clothes dirty and torn, and it was always my fault, because I was the eldest.

“They were twins but they couldn’t have been more different. Bethany was sweet and shy; Carver was obnoxious and resentful of his big brother. Bethany inherited magic from Father, and Carver just wanted to beat up anyone or anything that offended him.” He paused. “Which seemed to be everyone and everything.”

She wanted to ask what had happened to them; it was clear that something had. Affection was clear in his voice, as was pain. But she sensed that she was seeing a side of Garrett Hawke that few saw; intrigued, she held her tongue and waited. She felt gentle tugs on her scalp as he started braiding sections. 

“Anyway, Bethany’s hair was much longer then, and she couldn’t manage it very well on her own, so I used to help her. Carver teased me, or tried to, but after I gave him a black eye a few times, he finally shut up.”

The silence was longer this time. When he spoke again his voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Almost. “Carver was… killed, when we were escaping Lothering during the Blight. Bethany was taken by the Templars recently.” Anger crept into his tone. “We kept her safe for so many years, and then I left her alone for a few weeks to go on an expedition, and they found her.”

She suppressed a gasp at a sharp tug. Immediately his touch gentled. “Sorry. Almost done.” When he went on his voice was lighter, determinedly cheerful. “But after skillful negotiations on my part, she has ‘permission’” he fairly bit off the word, “to attend my party tonight. So you’ll get to meet her, along with every person of importance in Kirkwall. Probably all deadly bores, but Mother insisted. I invited my friends so that at least we’re assured of some fun.” 

He patted her head. “All done, take a look.”

Cautiously she opened her eyes, hesitating before turning to look in the mirror. “Oh! I thought you wanted it down?” 

“I changed my mind. Looks better this way.”

She turned her head from side to side, trying to see the back. “How did you do that? It looks… woven!”

“I think Beth said it was called an Orlesian braid… she made me practice it a lot.” He reached out and pulled wisps of hair down over her forehead. “There. Final touch. Well?” He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

“It’s… I like it.” To her own surprise she actually did. It kept her hair out of her face but looked more… sophisticated than her usual ponytail.

“Of course you do! I do good work.” He buffed his nails on his tunic and she rolled her eyes.

“The modest look does not sit well on you.”

He wagged a finger at her. “No, no, you’re supposed to say ‘Thank you, Garrett, you’re amazing.’”

She opened her eyes wide, fluttering her lashes. “Thank you, Garrett, you’re amazing.”

He beamed. “I know.” She sighed in exasperation and he chuckled. “Come on, guests will be arriving soon”

She followed him to the door. “All right, but I warn you: if I don’t have fun, there’s going to be an amazing foot up your amazing backside.”

 

*****

She was _not_ having fun. 

“So then, of course, we couldn’t possibly invite the Cabriens, because-“ 

She nodded, wondering why the stupid boy talking to her couldn’t seem to _possibly_ tell that she was bored out of her skull. The glazed eyes should have given it away. Maybe she should drool a little. 

She was going to strangle Garrett for putting her next to this insipid fool. He was supposed to be the seneschal’s son or something like that. She’d already forgotten his name, and as frustrating as her memory loss was, she’d be glad to forget someone like him entirely. The seneschal himself, once he discovered she wasn’t a noble, ignored her of course. A shame, really; he wasn’t bad looking for an older man. Too bad he hadn’t passed on his looks to his pimply-faced, annoying brat.

Garrett had been occupied receiving guests for ages. He apparently had also forgotten about her entirely. She eyed one of the far tables enviously. The people seated there looked far more interesting than her table mates. Just as she started to look away, a woman stood on a chair and yelled “Bethany!” across the room. 

Past caring what Ser Mush-for-brains might think, she craned to see the woman and man who had just entered the hall. _So that’s his sister… she’s pretty; hair as dark as Garrett’s, and I can see some resemblance. She doesn’t look like a smart ass, though._ She wasn't even surprised to feel the familiar shock of _I know her_. Bethany had reached that far table and was hugging someone-Kaja realized with a start that it was the woman she’d seen in Lowtown the day before, the one that she thought was familiar. And there, at the same table, there was the dwarf! 

She studied the others seated at the table and realized she felt the same shock about all of them. She half rose in her seat to go over to them, before sinking back down. _No… look at them, they’re all friends, they all care about each other. You can_ see _the bonds between them._ They didn’t know her; she would be an unwelcome intrusion into that circle.

She turned back to the seneschal’s son with a sigh. _Maybe I did something really, really bad that I can’t remember, and this is my penance._ She grabbed her glass of wine. Time to get good and drunk, then maybe she could forget how lost and lonely she felt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogues, mages and Templars, oh my....

_Still not having fun, Garrett!_ she thought at him as hard as she could. He seemed oblivious, chatting with the old bald man beside him. She interrupted the dullard beside her. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing. 

The boy gaped at her. "You don't know? That's the Viscount!" He puffed with self-importance. "My father is his seneschal. I will probably take over when my father steps down. He-"

She was already tuning him out, having heard variations of the same braggadocio for far too long now. She signaled the steward for more wine. He must have watered the damned stuff; she wasn't nearly as drunk as she should be after drinking for what, a half hour, an hour? 

At least she had had some peace and quiet while eating; even Ser Couldn't-buy-a-clue-with-a-gold-piece wasn't _that_ boorish. That or he lacked the brainpower to talk and chew at the same time. The respite appeared to be over, however, and she smiled as politely as she could manage while trying to figure out how soon she could leave without being rude. She didn't really want to cause a scene with all the 'important' personages around. Garrett might be an arrogant ass sometimes, but he _had_ tried to help her; she didn't want to cause trouble for him or Leandra.

_What the-?_ Only her superb reflexes enabled her to dodge the hand coming at her head. Apparently the latest narrative required descriptive gestures, and it seemed that the wine was affecting him far more than it did her. _Maker, get me out of this! I'm running out of stupid euphemisms for this idiot!_ She was beginning to really regret that Garrett had made her leave her daggers in her room.

She cast a desperate glance around the room for inspiration. Her gaze swept over that far table, and locked on someone staring at her. Several someones, actually. She jerked her eyes away quickly. Why were they looking at her with such evident interest? Maybe maybe they did recognize her? Trying to control the leap of hope, she peeked again as she dodged another flailing hand. Seized by a wild impulse, she mouthed, _"Save me!"._

Almost immediately she regretted the whim. She stared down at her table. _Why did I do that? They have no reason to help meI was just imagining things. I'll find a way to slip away soon, go get a book and read in my room. That sounds like a--_

The seneschal's son yelped in surprise as the dusky woman from earlier plopped into his lap. She ignored Kaja, instead pouting at the boy, who was staring back open-mouthed and finally, blessedly, silently. Understandable, really, with the woman's magnificent bosom nearly hitting him in the face. "Darling," she said, batting her eyes at him, "how could you leave me like that last night? And without even paying?"

Oho, now Daddy was paying attention! " _Mistress_ Isabela, if you please, I hardly think-"

She interrupted him, wagging her finger in his face, "Now, now, Bran, don't worry. You're still down for tomorrow night."

Kaja wasn't going to waste an opportunity like this. The seneschal was sputtering, his son appeared to be catatonic, and all the nearby nobles were studiously pretending to ignore the scene, while avidly listening. She slid her chair back and slithered out of it, keeping low until she reached the wall. She turned and nearly ran into a dark-haired elf. "Oh!"

She barely had time to notice the tattoos, the ethereal beauty _-Maker I would kill for eyes like that!-_ before the girl began speaking so rapidly Kaja almost couldn't understand her. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry about Isabela, she just dragged me over here, she can be so impulsive and she just wanted to help you, she thought your tattoos were sexy-oops, perhaps I shouldn't I have said that part, I'm always saying things I shouldn't, but they never explain things to me; maybe they're dirty things and they think I won't understand but I might, they ought to try, sometimes I think I wouldn't mind knowing. Oh, I forgot, I'm Merrill, how do you do?"

Kaja felt a little like a waterfall had crashed over her. "Uh, Kaja, nice to meet you. I-" 

She gasped as an arm snaked around her waist from behind and Garrett's voice sounded in her ear. "Sorry, Merrill, got to go, the dance floor awaits!" Kaja was too startled to resist as he urged her away.

By the time they reached the edge of the area cleared for dancing, however, she had recovered enough to dig in her heels. "Garrett, _stop_!" she hissed.

For a wonder, he did. "Why, what's wrong?" He sounded confused and she elbowed him in the ribs. 

" _That's_ for sticking me with that sorry excuse for a human being, and _that_ ," she elbowed him again, harder, "is for not serving drinks strong enough to make me not care!" She grabbed his sleeve and pulled his startled face close to hers. "I. Am. NOT. Having. Fun!" She released him and folded her arms, fuming.

"Ow," he remarked, rubbing his side and moving a step away, just in case. "I'll apologize later; right now we have to dance." He reached for her hand.

She forgot her anger immediately, staring almost fearfully at the people whirling by. "I, I can't!"

He tugged on her arm. "Sure you can; everyone else is."

She resisted, turning a frantic look on him. "No, I mean I don't know how!" she almost wailed. 

Surprised understanding filled his face. "Oh!" He started to chuckle. "This is priceless; I saw you tearing into a pack of smugglers that outnumbered you ten to one, totally fearless, and you're terrified of dancing?!"

She slapped at him but he dodged easily. "It's not funny!"

"I beg to differ, sweetheart," he was still chuckling a little, "but the problem is easily remedied; I _do_ know how to dance." He cast a wary glance at the main table. "As this is the first time I've been able to get out of Mother's iron grip, I am going to make the most of it." He put his arm around her and almost dragged her to a relatively quiet corner near the door, ignoring her protests.

"Now," he faced her, hands on her shoulders, "just think of it as combat. I've seen you move, remember; you can do this." He grinned, shaking his head. "You know, you're adorable when you're nervous." 

She blinked, ready to take offense before realizing: he hadn't sounded smarmy at all. _What-?_ But he was already demonstrating. "Okay, there are actually only a few basic steps. You start off like this." Realizing he wasn't going to be dissuaded, she sighed and tried to follow his instructions. 

She did catch on fairly quickly; before long she was moving with actual confidence, whirling and counting the steps off in her head. As she made fewer mistakes, she began to see why dancing was so popular. Despite herself she could feel a huge grin spreading across her face. _This is actually fun!_

She gave Garrett a delighted smile. "I'm dancing!" She raised her hands for the next step; he was supposed to lay his hands flat against hers, but instead he grasped them and pulled. Off-balance, she almost fell against him and he caught her, holding her close. "Oh!" She looked up at him, laughing. "Is this a new move?"

He gazed down at her with the oddest expression on his face. "Do you realize this is the first time I've seen you happy? Maker's breath, you're striking when you're angry, but now you're."

She raised an eyebrow when he didn't continue. "I'm what?" She should pull away, but her legs felt a little shaky from the unaccustomed strain. A tiny voice in the back of her head whispered, _are you sure?_ She ignored it.

"Oh, no," he shook his head, the familiar mocking look settling firmly back into place. "I don't want to get punched again."

"Scared of me?" she teased. 

"Of the woman who destroys packs of smugglers wholesale? Now why would I be scared of you? Especially when you don't have your daggers." He smirked.

"Ah, but those aren't my only weapons. I am a rogue, you know." She was enjoying the teasing far too much. 

"Oh, are you going to steal my gold, my precious possessions? My heart?" He winked.

She had to laugh at his silliness. The wine must have affected her more than she'd thought if she was starting to laugh at his over-the-top flirting instead of groaning.

"Garrett Hawke!"

They both almost jumped at the voice behind him. He closed his eyes. "Maker, not now," he complained under his breath. He waited a beat. "Is she going away?" he murmured hopefully.

Kaja peered around him. Leandra stood there, arms folded, eyes snapping. "Um, nope," she whispered, ducking back.

He heaved a sigh. "Nothing for it." He released her and turned around, plastering an ingratiating smile on his face. "Yes, Mother?"

She was not mollified. "You said you would only be gone for a few minutes. It's very rude to abandon your guests, least of all the Viscount himself."

"But Mother," he whined, "it's my party! Can't I-"

"You promised, Garrett! There are some very powerful and influential people here tonight and you said you would behave and be polite to them. For my sake. After they leave you can swing from the chandelier for all I care. But right now, you will march back to that table and act like a man instead of a little boy!"

Kaja winced. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind Garrett, who was obviously trying very hard to control his temper.

"I'm sorry, Leandra. It's my fault; he was just trying to cheer me up. I was feeling somewhat" she hesitated, not wanting to admit just how miserable she had felt.

Leandra's expression softened minutely. "I understand, dear. But he does have duties, no matter how much he would like to avoid them." She transferred her gaze back to her son. "Work first, then play."

"Yes, Mother," he grated. Kaja wanted desperately to say something, anything, to wipe that look from his face and make him laugh again, but she sensed it would be wiser to say nothing, for now. He turned and stalked away, muttering, "I'm going to need a lot more wine."

Leandra watched him go before giving Kaja a rueful smile. "I apologize for his manners. He's a good boy, just a little headstrong." Kaja managed a small smile in return and Leandra patted her arm. "You should mingle a little, dear. I'm sure there's plenty of willing admirers eager for a dance. Try to enjoy yourself." She set off briskly after Garrett, skirts rustling.

_Enjoy myself, right._ Kaja hugged herself, feeling irrationally deserted. The pleasure she'd felt just a few short minutes ago had drained away; she had no desire whatsoever to join in the dancing still going on. _I think I've had enough fun for the evening._ She headed for the nearest doorway out of the ballroom, snagging a bottle of wine off a startled servant's tray as she passed. 

_Find a good book, curl up and read myself to sleep. It beats crying myself to sleep._

*****

 

_Maker, isn't there anything fit to read in here?_ It was all genealogies of Kirkwall nobles, maps of Thedas, and what was this? She flipped a few pages. _Care and Feeding of the Common Nug? Bleh._ She put it back. Histories, theology texts she made a face. _Does anyone actually read any of these?_

The door burst open, making her jump. She whirled to see her rescuer from dinner, followed by the dwarf she'd seen with her in Lowtown the day before. "Shhh, there's a window overlooking the balcony over there. We can-" They saw her at the same time and stopped short.

She smiled pleasantly. "Isabela, isn't it? I didn't get the chance to thank you for your timely rescue earlier." What were they doing up here? 

Isabela laughed throatily. "It was my pleasure, sweet thing. Any time I can make our dear seneschal blush is a good day." She eyed Kaja in a way that made her decidedly nervous. "And I would love to make _you_ blush."

The dwarf made a disgusted noise. "Can't you rein it in for five minutes, Rivaini?" To Kaja he said, "I apologize for her manners; there's a reason one of her nicknames is 'whore'." Isabela just laughed at him. He bowed low. "And I am Varric Tethras, at your service." He straightened and looked at her expectantly, his eyes alive with interested curiosity.

Kaja grinned; familiar or not, she felt immediately comfortable with the two. "Kaja, a pleasure to meet you both."

He started to reply but Isabela squealed. "I almost forgot why we came up here!" She hurried over to a window in the far corner of the library. "Yes! There are our lovebirds!"

Curious, Kaja followed Varric as he joined Isabela. She was already gently tugging on the window sash.

"Careful," he warned. "Don't let them hear you!"

"I know what I'm doing, Varric," she replied testily. "Now hush and let me work." She raised the sash in minute increments, making almost no noise. No one more than a few paces away would have heard a thing. 

Curious, Kaja peered out, following Isabela's gaze. She recognized Bethany, and the man that had arrived with her. She hadn't paid much attention to him at the time, being more interested in Garrett's sister. She studied him closely now. He was fairly tall, with close-cropped blondish hair that was slightly mussed as if he'd been running his fingers through it, and he looked tense. The templar symbol on his tabard made her blink. She leaned down to whisper in Varric's ear, "Who is that with her?"

He gave her a curious look. "Cullen, second in command of the Templars," he replied just as quietly. His expression said all too clearly, _'why didn't you know that?'_

She shrugged helplessly. "New here." To her relief Isabela glared at them, cutting off any further questions. They returned their attention to the scene below just as Cullen turned abruptly on Bethany and grabbed her hand. He kept turning, forcing the girl between him and the railing, pressing her back. 

What the bloody blazes?! Kaja inhaled and opened her mouth to yell, but Isabela clapped a hand over her mouth. She mouthed, _"Just watch!"_

Kaja subsided, for the moment. They obviously knew more of what was going on than she, but Maker help her if she wouldn't interfere if Bethany was being hurt, templar or no. She watched with narrowed eyes as Cullen leaned closer and closer to the girl. Her eyes widened as she realized that, far from pulling away, Bethany was almost on tiptoes to bring her face closer to his. Almost as if he couldn't help himself, his hand raised to tenderly touch her face. _Oh. OH. Oh dear._ A mage and a templar? And not just any templar, but the second in command? Garrett wouldor did he even know?

Isabela was so intent on the two that she was literally hanging out of the window as she muttered. "Come on, templar boy, you know you want to, you're allllmost there." This time Kaja poked her, but Isabela just flapped a hand at her, still watching. 

The tension was almost unbearable; despite her concern she found herself mentally urging the man on impatiently. When she heard Isabela singsong almost exactly what she was thinking – _kiss her already, you idiot!_ \- she almost thought she herself had spoken aloud. But no, and this time the pirate hadn’t been careful enough to keep her voice low. 

The results were predictable yet still heartbreaking; Cullen stormed off, Bethany dissolved in tears, and Isabela leaped agilely down to the terrace to comfort her.

 

Kaja shook her head as Isabela led the sobbing girl to the terrace door. "She's going to need a lot of alcohol to forget _that_."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rogue walks into a bar--no wait, lemme start over.

"So, come here often?"

Kaja turned from closing the window to level a look at the dwarf. He just stared back, a small smile playing across his face. _He does the innocent look better than Garrett,_ she mused absently. He was obviously afire with curiosity about this strange woman hanging out in the library as if she lived there. 

"That has to be one of, if not the, oldest lines in the book," she countered. 

His smile widened. "You obviously haven't read _my_ book. Here's another: What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She had to laugh. "Just visiting, actually." She raised an insolent eyebrow. 

"Ooh, so it's going to be like that, is it?" He seemed more intrigued than annoyed. "I love a challenge, bright-eyes." He actually rubbed his hands together gleefully. "That armor isn't just for show, so you're not a noble, or at least a local one. No one in this town does an honest day's work."

She kept the eyebrow up. "How do you know I'm honest?"

"Just a hunch. You could be a scion of some Ferelden house; some of them send their younger children here to 'grow up'. How am I doing?"

She just grinned. "Nice story."

He grunted in frustration. "You could at least tell me if I'm getting close! I-"

The door opened to admit Isabela and Bethany, to Kaja's relief. She wasn't quite sure why she was putting Varric off; perhaps she just didn't want pity.

Bethany seemed much calmer, although her eyes were still slightly red. She carried herself with an unconscious dignity, even managing a smile for Varric. She came to stand in front of Kaja. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Bethany Hawke, Garrett's sister."

"Kaja," she nodded. "He's told me a bit about you; it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh," the girl replied blankly. "He hasn't mentioned you. Not that we've had much time to talk, but."

Kaja coughed, embarrassed. "I, uh... actually just met him yesterday." 

There was a teasing sparkle in Bethany's eyes. "Really? You seem to know him rather well, from the way you two were dancing a while ago."

"Oh, you know how he is," she smiled weakly. _Maker, was everyone watching?_

"Yes, indeed we do!" Isabela interjected. "But I--w _e,_ would like to get to know _you_ better." She winked lasciviously.

_Oh, my._ "I was actually just looking for a book to read," Kaja hedged. "You probably want to spend some time with your friends, so I'll just-" she was already sidling around toward the door, but Bethany stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Please, don't go. It would be nice to have someone new to talk to, and I have to admit, I'm curious about someone who could capture Garrett's attention so quickly."

"But I didn't.... He isn't-" Kaja floundered, ignoring the little spot of heat suddenly burning inside her. She took a deep breath. "It's not like that," she insisted. "I was... in some trouble, and he helped me out." She tried to ignore the way both Isabela and Varric were grinning widely at her discomfiture. 

"Come on," Isabela took her other arm. "Let's sit down and have our own little party. I snagged some bottles on the way up, and this way I won't have to save you from inbred idiots again." She threw an arm around Kaja, urging her toward a settee. "I can even sit on your lap!"

They weren't going to let her leave, not now. Not admitting to herself how much she wanted to stay, she sighed and let herself be led to a seat. "Only if you promise _not_ to sit on my lap."

Isabela smirked. "Well, then, we could get Hawke up here and you could sit on his lap!" Kaja couldn't help picturing _that_ , and suddenly the room seemed far too warm. Isabela was already moving on to another victim. "Or... Cullen?" she cut her eyes to Bethany.

"Certainly not, Isabela!" Bethany flushed, head held high. "In fact, I'd rather that we didn't talk about--that."

"Oh, but Sunshine, it's obvious he--"

"I said, no!" Bethany snapped. At the look on Isabela's face, she relented somewhat. "I know you didn't mean to do that, Bela. But right now, I just really -can't- talk about it."

"All right, Sunshine. But we _are_ going to. You have to let Mama Izzy try to fix things." Isabela waited for her nod before clapping her hands together and looking around. "All right! Let's get this party started!" 

Kaja still had the bottle of wine she'd brought upstairs with her. Isabela held up the three she'd pilfered and handed one to each of the others, ignoring Bethany's protests. "You don't have to get drunk, sweetling; just enough to take the edge off. You need it."

Varric barely waited until they were all settled before fixing Kaja with a gimlet stare. "All right, how exactly did Hawke 'help you out'?" he demanded. "Are you hiding from an unwanted suitor? Did his men come after you and Hawke swooped down and saved you? Drove them off single-handed and carried you off in his arms?"

Kaja stared at him, mouth hanging open. Bethany was giggling helplessly and Isabela was literally howling, slapping her leg. Kaja covered her eyes with a hand. "Maker's breath, no!" She grabbed her bottle and took a healthy slug. Setting it down firmly, she glared at the dwarf. "Fine. You want to know who I am? Well, so would I!" 

She told them what she had told Garrett, and everything that had happened since, little as that was. "The worst part is, I keep meeting people that I feel I should know, but I don't! And they don't know me, and, and it's driving me crazy!" Not sure whether she felt more like crying or screaming in frustration, she raised the bottle for another long drink. 

"Ooh, that's even better!" Varric's eyes practically glowed with glee. "A mysterious woman without a past, appearing out of nowhere? I couldn't have written a better opening myself!"

"Varric!" Bethany scolded, laying a sympathetic hand on Kaja's shoulder. "This isn't a story! How would you feel in her place?"

"So," Isabela gestured, "we seem familiar to you?"

Kaja nodded. 

Isabela looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Well, the reason we were all staring at you at dinner, was because you seemed familiar to us." Varric nodded in confirmation.

"You had seen me before, though. In Lowtown, just before I ran into Garrett," Kaja countered.

Bethany spoke up. "But I feel like I know you, too! But it could just be that feeling you get sometimes when you meet someone that you immediately feel comfortable with. Like you've known them your whole life." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

Kaja sighed. "Maybe I'll never know."

"Might as well get drunk and tell dirty jokes, then!" Isabela clinked her bottle to Kaja's in a toast.

*****

"so she says, "But, they were blue when I got here!'" Isabela beamed.

Kaja and Varric groaned, while Bethany fiercely pretended not to be blushing. "Rivaini, you've been telling that same joke for years now!" Varric complained. 

"Well then, you tell one!" she pouted. 

He drew himself up truculently. "I will, thank you!" He took another drink. "Damn, this is good wine! Hawke pulled out all the stops for this little soiree."

"Quit stalling and tell the joke!" Kaja goaded. Her bottle was almost empty, and she felt warm and pleasantly tingly.

"All right, all right! Ahem." He stood up. "It's a hot, dusty day on the farm. The cows are lowing in the field, crickets chirping-"

"Just tell the damned joke! You don't have to tell a whole story!" Isabela complained.

"Amateurs," he grumbled. "Fine. A peddler stops at a farm to sell his wares, but the old farmer insists that there's nothing he needs right now. The peddler says, 'You have cows, right? Aren't the flies biting really bad right now?' 'Ayup,' says the farmer. 'Well you're in luck,' says the peddler. 'I have here a bottle of Minsky's Famous Fly-b-gone, guaranteed to keep all manner of biting flies off your cows.'"

Kaja giggled. Varric was acting out the parts, stepping from one side to the other as he changed voices. "Now the farmer is, understandably, dubious. But the peddler insists he'll prove it, that he'll spend the day out in the field where the flies are the worst, with this magical elixir on him, and that he won't get bit a single time. Well, the farmer scratches his chin, and allows as that would be pretty good proof. 'But, how will I know you won't sneak off somewheres else? I gots work to do; I ken't keep an eye on ye all day.'"

Isabela snorted a laugh. "Your farmer's accent is atrocious, Varric." He nobly ignored her.

"So the peddler offers to let the farmer tie him to a tree. Not only that, but he'll strip naked so that the farmer can see that he won't have any bites, anywhere at all. At that, the farmer says if he comes back at the end of the day and there's not a single bite, he'll buy every bottle the peddler has. So the peddler strips and rubs the stuff all over himself, the farmer ties him to a tree, and goes about his work."

"Just to be clear, Varric just being naked doesn't make it a dirty joke," Isabela pointed out.

"Patience, Rivaini," he said irritably. "NOW, if I may continue? Thank you. Ahem. So at dusk the farmer comes back. The peddler is still tied to the tree, without a bite on him! But, he's not in good shape. He's hanging from the ropes, gasping, barely conscious. The farmer cuts the ropes and he falls to the ground. 'Son,' says the farmer, 'ye got a deal! Not a bite on ye, and I'll buy every bottle ye got! But what's wrong with ye?'"

Varric paused dramatically. "The peddler looks up, trembling, and gasps out, 'Doesn't that calf have a mother?!'"

There was a pause, and then Kaja and Isabela exploded with laughter as Varric puffed out his chest proudly. It only got worse when they realized Bethany was looking from one to another with a confused 'I know I'm supposed to be laughing but I'm not quite sure at what' look on her face. When they quieted down a little, she asked, "But, what does the calf have to do with it?"

Kaja fell off the settee. Unable to speak, she flapped a hand limply at Varric. _Your fault, YOU explain it!_

Varric raised his hands. "Oh, no, no, no, not me!"

Isabela had recovered, at least more than Kaja, who was still on the floor wiping at her streaming eyes and giggling weakly. The pirate glanced at her, shook her head and turned to Bethany. "All right, Sunshine, since you wouldn't look at that book I gave you, this may be a little bit of a shock for you. You see-"

The door burst open. Kaja raised her head to see Garrett duck into the room and shut the door quickly behind him. He heaved a relieved sigh and looked around at their startled faces. "So this is where you've been hiding! I thought" he saw Kaja's tear-stained face and roared, rushing across the room to kneel beside her. His gentleness as he lifted her head to his lap belied his harsh tone as he demanded, "What have you done to her?!"

She tried to ignore the warmth rushing through her as he carefully ran his thumb under her eyes, wiping away the tears. _Okay, this is this is_ she stared up at his concerned face, trying to think. _Maybe I shouldn't have drunk all that wine._

She heard Bethany giggle as Varric replied drily, "I told a dirty joke. Want to hear it?"

Garrett stared up at Varric, then at Isabela and Bethany. "A joke?" She bit her lip at his confused expression. He looked down at her; she nodded and smiled weakly. "Oh. Oops."

"A dirty one," Isabela clarified with a snigger. "I was just about to explain it to your sweet, innocent sister, but if you two want some alone time, we can go somewhere else."

"Now, Isabela, what have I told you about trying to corrupt my sister?" Almost absentmindedly, he slid his arms under Kaja and stood, lifting her effortlessly. She gasped at the sudden movement, clutching at his neck.

"Um, that it would be a good learning experience for her?" Isabela wondered.

"Yes, but the exact word I used was, DON'T." 

Kaja finally got her breath back. "Garrett! Put me down!" She did want down, didn't she? Of course she did; she couldn't spend the rest of the night in his armsher brain stuttered. _Definitely too much wine. Is it warm in here?_

He grinned down at her. "You want down?" He dropped her several inches and caught her. A squeak escaped despite herself as she grasped at his neck again. "I don't think you want down." _Smug, infuriating man!_

"Garrett, stop being so childish." Bethany sounded thoroughly exasperated. "Honestly, you're bad enough normally, but when you've been drinking you're impossible!"

With a disgruntled expression, he bent to deposit Kaja gently on the settee. She sat up, stifling an irrational surge of disappointment and trying to gather the shreds of her dignity. That last effort was not helped in the slightest by the knowing looks from the other two rogues. Bethany and Garrett bickered and teased each other like well, brother and sister. It was actually sort of sweet, and she wondered again if she even had a family. _I don't need to think about that again; it just depresses me._

Isabela's expression caught her eye; the self-proclaimed pirate looked startled for a moment, before a slow, sly smile spread across her face. Kaja's eyes narrowed. Her whole manner screamed, 'I just had an idea!' Knowing Isabela, it was something that would get her, or them, in trouble again. 

The door opened, interrupting her thoughts. Bodahn peered in. "Ah, there you are, Messere Hawke. Your mother is looking for you."

Garrett groaned. "Dear Maker, not more 'eligible daughters' to parade before me!" Kaja stiffened and then grabbed her bottle of wine. _Why should I care how many women 'parade' in front of him?_ She shook her head dismissively.

Varric guffawed. "Now, Hawke, most men would love to have that kind of problem."

He wasn't amused. "Fine, you take my place."

Bodahn was looking definitely nervous. "Ah, messere, she was very insistent. I believe her words were, 'If I have to track him down, he will regret it.'"

Bethany gave her brother a sympathetic look. "She will, you know. You'd better go." She patted his arm and he bent to give her a fierce hug. "Why, brother, I'd almost think you missed me," she teased gently.

He gave her a long look, totally devoid of his usual humor. "More than you know." Without another word he left the room, Bodahn trailing behind him.

Kaja broke the silence after the door shut behind them. "He does, you know," she said softly.

Bethany gave her a tremulous look. "I know." She dabbed at her eyes. "I just wish he didn't blame himself for"

Kaja patted her arm sympathetically.

"Now, now, too much seriousness," Isabela broke in. "This is supposed to be a party! And," she grinned slyly at Bethany, "I have a solution for your little templar problem." She sighed at the dubious looks they all gave her. 

"This had better not backfire, Rivaini," Varric warned.

She just grinned. "Trust me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end...?

_Why me?_ Kaja grumbled to herself as she trudged down the hall. Isabela stuck her head out of the door behind her and whispered loudly, "And get more wine!"

Kaja flapped her hand in acknowledgment without turning around, and picked up where she'd left off. _Oh yes. Because Cullen wouldn't trust one of Garrett's friends, and he doesn't know me._ She wasn't quite sure about this 'plan', not least because it was Isabela's idea. It could work, though. The man obviously had feelings for Bethany; only Isabela's interruption earlier had prevented him from kissing her. If Bethany pretended to be drunk, she could do some remarkably stupid things and he would dismiss them as a result of her being tipsy. As tightly wound as the templar seemed, it wouldn't take much to tip him over the edge.

Bethany had been hesitant at first. Finally Kaja pointed out, "Once you get back to the Gallows, are you ever going to get a chance to get him alone again? This might be your only chance. You have to decide if you really want this or not." 

A fierce light sparked in the girl's eye and her chin came up defiantly. "I do."

Remembering Bethany's expression, Kaja chuckled. Poor man. Cullen wouldn't stand a chance.

Still, there were possible problems. She rounded a corner and almost ran into one. "Oh, Leandra! I'm so sorry; I wasn't watching where I was going." She suddenly felt very sober. _Shit, shit, shit!_

The woman gave her a somewhat perfunctory smile. "Quite all right, dear. I was just looking for my daughter, she's been absent for some time. Have you seen her?"

Her mind raced and she spoke almost without realizing she'd made a decision. _Change of plan; I have to divert her!_ She put on a serious, slightly worried expression. "Actually, yes. She" she trailed off, hoping she hadn't overdone it.

Leandra's eyebrows knit together. "Is something wrong?"

Kaja bit her lip. "I think she had an argument with someone. She was rather distraught. Some of Garrett's friends are with her, and I'm afraid she, ah, had a bit too much to drink."

"I suspect I know exactly which 'friends' you mean. And you left her alone with them? Where is she?" Leandra drew herself up.

""I thought I'd better come get her escort before Garrett found out that he'd let her get drunk," she explained, dodging the 'where' for the moment. "Apparently they already don't like each other very much, and, well, I didn't think we'd want an incident."

"No, we do not." Her lips pursed. "I will inform the Knight Captain." From her expression, Kaja knew Cullen was going to get more than 'informed'; he'd be lucky to get away from the irate mother with his skin intact. Leandra continued, "I'll take care of Garrett; you go watch over Bethany."

Kaja nodded, hiding her relief that the formidable woman hadn't decided to go to Bethany herself. "She's in the library; I'll stay with her until the Knight Captain comes for her."

"Thank you, dear," Leandra stalked off and Kaja hurried back the way she had come. _That was close!_

She came across Bodahn bringing up another case of wine from the cellar and snagged a few bottles, scampering off as he sputtered behind her. When she got back to the library, she stared in confusion. "What the blazes are you doing?" Cards and coins were scattered around, along with a few bottles.

Varric grinned cheerfully. "Setting the stage!"

"Drunk, playing cards," Isabela squinted thoughtfully. "It needs something else, though." Her brow cleared and she smiled wickedly at Bethany. "Take off your dress, Sunshine."

"What?! Why?" Both Bethany and Kaja looked at her in disbelief.

"Stacking the deck, so to speak," the rogue winked. "Trust Mama Izzy. He won't be able to think of anything else once he sees you."

"But, but, I can't-not in front of, people!" 

"Oh, we'll all take something off, sweetness. Wouldn't want it to look suspicious. But we need to hurry." Isabela was pulling off her scarf.

Bethany wavered for a moment longer before giving in. When she stood clad only in her slip, she stared at Isabela. "Why aren't you undressing?"

"Sweetness, I don't wear anything under this. Do you really want these," she hefted her breasts, making them jiggle, "out on display? We want him hot, not catatonic."

Varric snickered. He had divested himself of his coat and breeches already, and was pulling off his waistcoat. 

_In for a copper._ Kaja sighed, dropping her armor to one side. "If it makes you feel better, Bethany" she slithered out of the padded undertunic to stand only in her smallclothes. "But I'm going to need another drink."

"Better get into position," Varric warned. He had even picked out where everyone was to sit! 'For the best effect,' he said. 

Kaja picked up the hand of cards by her spot. "Maker's breath, Varric, did you have to give me the shitty hand?"

"It explains your current state of dress or undress," he said innocently. She glared.

Isabela handed Bethany a bottle. "Here, drink some. He could be here any second and you're supposed to be drunk! You're pale as a ghost!" Gulping nervously, the girl complied. 

It was actually more like five or ten minutes before they heard a heavy tread in the hallway. _Huh. Leandra must have dealt with Garrett before telling Cullen._ To her not so great surprise, Bethany performed flawlessly. It was all Kaja could do to keep a halfway straight face as they twitted the man unmercifully. She thought he was going to have apoplexy when she said he'd have to carry Bethany. 

Kaja made a silent cheer at Bethany over Cullen's shoulder as he carried her out the door. It closed behind the two, and the three rogues exchanged looks before finally letting their laughter ring out. "Well, we did it. If she doesn't get her kiss, he's not a man; he's a golem!" Varric snickered. 

Isabela pooh-poohed. "Of course we did! Because we're awesome!" She sat back and stretched languorously. "So, what are we doing now?" 

Kaja had slipped on the undertunic and was already fastening her armor. Now that the excitement was over with, she was feeling the effects of the bottle or two of wine she'd had. "Actually, I think I'm for bed."

"Ooh, sounds good to me!" Isabela winked suggestively. 

Varric smirked. "You're wasting your time, Rivaini. I think bright-eyes has got someone else in mind."

Kaja chuckled, shaking her head as she headed for the door. "Sorry, Varric, you're just not my type. And I don't have anyone, or anything in mind but sleep." Ignoring his disbelieving snort, she waved. "G'night!"

Their farewells followed her down the hall and she smiled to herself. Incorrigible, the pair of them, but good people regardless. If she never recovered her memory, it wouldn't be so bad to live here, with friends like that. They'd probably get her into lots of trouble, but somehow she knew that they would be there to help her out of it again. And there was Garrett she shied away from that thought. Sleep, definitely time for sleep. Her room was on the other side of the mansion, but she could cut through the next hallway and

As she turned the same corner where she'd almost run into Leandra earlier, this time she was nearly run down herself. Familiar strong hands kept her from falling and she looked up into Garrett's grinning face. "You do make a habit of running into me, don't you? And here I thought rogues had quick reflexes." 

She sputtered. "You ran into me!" 

"Never mind." he dismissed her objection, "I've got something to show you." Without waiting for an answer he tucked her arm into his and urged her back down the hall, ignoring her protests. Finally she gave up and let him propel her along, until they came to the ballroom. It appeared that the party was over. A few people remained; some sitting and talking, some passed out at the tables. As they entered the room, the musicians started playing and she stopped, confused. 

He winked down at her. "I never got my dance." She gave him a disbelieving stare as he backed up a step and bowed. His eyes twinkled as he held out a hand. "My lady?" 

She snorted. "I very much doubt that I'm a lady. And we did dance!" 

He shrugged, "That was just practice." 

His hand was still out, and she huffed. "Fine!" Oddly she found herself smiling, though, and not feeling at all sleepy any more. The music echoed in the nearly empty room as he guided her through the movements. She couldn't help but laugh, feeling almost giddy as the room seemed to whirl around her. When the music stopped she felt a sharp pang of disappointment. 

It must have shown on her face; Garrett laughed. "So, you like dancing now?" he teased. Without waiting for an answer, he signaled the musicians and they began playing again. "Now, this one is slightly different." The strains floating through the air were slower, more stately. "As usual the man leads," he smirked, "but it's a bit easier to follow."

Very much slower; she actually had breath enough to speak. "So, did you swing from the chandelier yet?" she gibed, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on her. Apparently this particular dance required much closer contact, too.

"What? Oh!" he chuckled. "Actually, no. Although I suspect Sandal does when we're away." He gave her an admiring look. "You've picked this up very quickly; I don't think you've stepped on my toes once. I wish I could say the same for all the ones Mother insisted I dance with."

She stifled a surge of temper. "Must have been horrible for you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smirked. "Oho, jealous?" She smiled sweetly at him, and stepped on his foot. "Shit!" He glared down at her. "You'll pay for that, woman!"

She faked a yawn. "Oh, dear, I'm so frightened, I eep!-" the words caught in her throat as he shifted abruptly, bending her over backward until he was holding her a few inches from the floor. She had no purchase to right herself, no way to get her feet under her. Her hands had a death grip on his tunic. 

His expression was positively wicked. "Well, my dear? I seem to have you at my mercy. Anything to say?"

She squirmed, freezing when his grasp threatened to slip. "Um. 'Let me up or I'll hurt you'?"

He burst out laughing and straightened, pulling her up with him. She staggered as the blood rushed back to her head, wanting to protest the way he was holding her entirely too closely but at the same time she didn't want him to let go. _Maker, too much wine, too much wine, that's all it is!_ She was faintly aware that the music had ended but he was still holding her, and looking at her oddly, and. 

_Shit, he must think I'm an idiot, gawking up at him like a moon-struck fool!_ She jerked her head, regaining a small measure of composure. An errant thought flitted through her head and she blurted it out. "How is it the musicians are still here? I thought the party was pretty much over?"

Something flickered in his eyes, before he smiled. "Oh, I just told them I had this huge sword, and as long as they kept playing they didn't have to see it." At her expression he chortled. "And you believe me!" 

She sniffed and stepped away. "Knowing you, I wouldn't doubt it." 

He was still smiling faintly. "One more dance?"

She shook her head, ignoring the part of her that said, _YES!_ "I think I'm done for the night." The wine was wearing off and she wanted to get away before she made more a fool of herself. Awkwardly she said, "Thank you for the dancing-for teaching me to dance, I mean. It was great," she finished inadequately. _I need to get out of here before I do something really stupid._ "Good night."

She ignored the slight surprise on his face as she turned away and headed for the door. She was halfway down the hallway when footsteps sounded behind her and he came up beside her. At her glance he shrugged. "My room is this way, too. I thought I might escort you to your room."

Why did she keep teasing him? But she couldn't resist. "A perfect gentleman, are you?"

He moved so quickly she didn't even have time to gasp before she suddenly found herself pinned against the wall. "I never claimed to be a gentleman," he growled, and kissed her. No, she thought dazedly, kiss was too mild; his mouth was hard and fierce, his tongue demanded hers. She froze in surprise for a split second before her arms went around his neck and she stopped thinking. He buried a hand in her hair and she made small sound in her throat as all sorts of things tingled and ached inside her. 

He finally broke away with a gasp. "I've been wanting to do that since you first ran into me,' he said hoarsely, his eyes dark.

Her thoughts were in turmoil. "This is probably a bad idea," she mumbled. _He doesn't really know me, I don't really know him; how can I feel this way?_

A light seemed to go out of his eyes. He smiled but it was a weak thing. "I seem to specialize in bad ideas. I" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he looked at her again that familiar self-mocking expression was back. "But you're probably right. Bad idea." He gently disentangled his hand from her hair and backed away a step. Her arms fell limply to her sides as she struggled to think but she could only stare dumbly as he turned away and strode off down the hall. 

_What just happened?!?_ She stood there in the hall for long moments, her thoughts darting this way and that. Then they just, stopped except for one, tiny voice. She wasn't aware of making a decision but she found herself moving. Her feet seemed to know where to go, carrying her down the hall, around corners until she came to a door. As if in a dream she watched her hand raise to knock, hesitate, and then simply open the door. 

He stopped in mid-pace, staring as she closed the door and came to stand a few paces away. Now that she was here, doubt was creeping in again; the surety she'd felt, that had carried her to this point melting away like snow on a summer day. The light from the fireplace showed none of his usual humor in his face, in fact no expression at all. He stood stiff and tense, his hands clenched at his sides. She searched desperately for something to say. Something that wasn't what she was thinking, which was _can we just pick up where you left off?_

"I" she cleared her throat and tried again. "It's funny, I've never been in your room before but it was like I knew right where it was." She tried to smile. "The whole house feels familiar actually, and Leandra, Bodahn, Sandal; though there's little things that don't seem to-" She stopped as he took a step towards her. And another. Only inches separated them.

"You didn't come here just to babble about my house, did you?" he asked quietly. She shook her head. "What did you want?" 

_What_ do _I want?_ Something clicked inside her, stiffening her spine and returning a measure of certainty. She smiled easily and closed the empty space between them, reaching up to clasp her hands around his neck. He seemed frozen in surprise as she stretched up and kissed him, hesitating a scant moment before his arms came up to embrace her and he kissed her back. She had thought his earlier kiss had been intense, but this! It was slower, softer, but no less demanding, and she felt heat ignite inside her. 

He started to pull his head away and she growled deep in her throat, tightening her grip on his neck to keep him in place. He made what might have been a muffled chuckle and settled in to prove he could do even better. 

With a sigh of regret she finally drew back to look at him. His eyes searched hers. "I thought you said this was a bad idea?" 

"I only said 'probably'." He raised an eyebrow and she quirked a wry smile. "As for it being a bad idea; maybe, maybe not, _I don't care._ You're the most smug, conceited, _infuriating_ man I've ever metwell, that I remember," she amended, "but Ilook, do you really want to _talk_ right now? I can think of a lot more," her voice lowered to a throaty rasp, "pleasant things we could be doing."

The slow grin that spread across his face was matched by the sparkle that had returned to his eyes. "I believe I can think of a few myself." He grasped her around the waist and lifted her up in the air, startling a squeak out of her. Before she could complain she found herself set down gently on the edge of the bed. He leaned down to kiss her, hard enough to leave her dazed, before kneeling to remove her boots. They went flying across the room. He kissed her again, longer, and broke from that to attack her armor. He cursed as he fumbled with buckles. "Why couldn't you have worn the damned dress?"

She managed a chuckle. "Then you would have had all those laces to deal with." She reached out to undo his belt. It became a race to see who could undress the other first. Pieces of armor went flying through the air. She got his tunic unlaced and yanked it off. More armor followed. His pants fell to the floor. She grabbed for his shirt as he tugged at her undertunic. She grinned. "You have to let go so I can get your shirt off." 

He made a rude noise. "Why don't you let go of my shirt so I can get yours off?"

She shook her head even as she laughed. "It seems we're at an impasse."

"Hmm, no, I don't think so," and his fingers dug at her ribs. She screeched, letting go of his shirt to grab at his hands. 

"No fair, no tickling!"

"I don't remember setting any rules for this." He skinned the tunic up and over her head. 

As soon as she was free she lunged for him. "No rules, fine!" 

She caught a glimpse of his startled face as she swept a leg out and around his, knocking him off balance. He fell towards her, and quick as a snake striking she twisted out from under him, letting him hit the bed face first with an explosive "oof!" He rolled over, saw her and nearly bit his tongue.

The light of the fire outlined her body as she stood ready to pounce, bouncing on the balls of her feet wearing nothing but her smallclothes. She grinned wickedly at his expression. 

He sat up slowly and she tensed, waiting for him to come for her. Instead he slid over to the middle of the large bed and lay back with his hands behind his head. He raised his head slightly to give her a smug smile. "You want the shirt off? Come and get it."

 _He wants to play games, now?_ She narrowed her eyes. _Oh, yes, I can play games._ She sauntered over to hop on the bed, and crawled slowly on all fours towards him. His eyes were glued to her as she swayed closer; she dipped her head to deposit a light kiss on his thigh, just above the knee. He inhaled sharply. She kissed again, a little higher. And again, higher yet. She noted with satisfaction that his breath was coming faster, and she slipped her hands under his shirt. The feel of his skin under her hands almost made her forget what she was doing. He was so warm! 

She kissed a spot on his hip, just above the waistband of his smalls. They in no way hid the effect she was having, and she brushed her fingers lightly over the bulge there. He groaned and something low down in her own body tightened at the sound. _Not yet, not yet._ She ran her hands over his abdomen, through the dusting of hair that grew thicker as she moved up to his chest. She continued laying light kisses on his warm skin as she pushed the shirt higher. 

Suddenly he grabbed the shirt and yanked it over his head. She grinned in triumph, batting his hands away as he reached for her. "Oh no, I'm not nearly done." He growled but dropped his hands, and she shivered at the look in his eyes. 

When her tongue flicked his nipple he nearly jerked clear off the bed. She laughed deep in her throat and fastened her mouth to it, tracing circles around it with her tongue, faster and faster. When she sucked hard on it he arched his head back, a groan escaping his lips as his hands clenched handfuls of the bedspread. She moved to the other nipple, attacking it with lips and tongue and just a nip of teeth, and he grabbed her, yanking her up to fasten his mouth on hers. 

She'd thought she was teasing him, but it had driven her own need higher and higher at the same time. She responded as hungrily as he as they devoured each other. The hairs of his moustache rasped against her skin; she ignored it, wrapping her tongue around his frantically. She was lying half on top of him and the feel of his skin rubbing against hers was intoxicating.

He raised his leg, bringing it up between hers to press against her. She moaned into his mouth and he began moving it back and forth until she thought she would explode. 

He jerked his head away and she opened her eyes, staring at him dazedly. His eyes were dark, blazing with such desire and need that she couldn't breathe for a moment. "My turn," he said hoarsely. 

She felt the hard muscles under her tense as he flipped her over on her back. His hands were roaming all over her, the calluses rough against her skin. One hand slipped under her breastband and simply snapped it, and her back arched as he began repaying her for her earlier teasing. She squirmed as he fastened his mouth to her breast, his hand on the other squeezing and playing with the nipple until it was stiff. He switched and she almost screamed, the aching need almost unbearable. 

As if reading her mind, he slid a hand down her stomach, down inside her smalls, and swiftly slid them over her hips and down her legs. The hand returned to press hard between her legs and she gasped. Strong fingers rubbed against her, finding that small nub and stroking it until she thought she would pass out from the sensations crashing through her. Still she pressed back against his fingers, wanting even more. 

His fingers moved lower, gliding easily in the wetness, and slipped inside her. Her back arched as she inhaled explosively. His mouth covered hers as he began stroking, looking for that special spot. He found it and she screamed into his mouth, shuddering as the waves rolled through her again and again.

When she could see and feel again, he was laying light kisses on her cheek, her forehead, her lips. He had apparently managed to divest himself of his smalls while she was distracted, and she could feel the hard length of him against her as he lay half beside her, half on her. Immediately the heat inside her rose again, fed but not nearly satiated. 

He smiled into her eyes. "Feeling all right?" She reached down and grasped him firmly and he choked.

She smiled back wickedly. "Oh yes. And I plan to feel even better." She began stroking him, gently but firmly, delighting in the way his breath was catching. 

"Maker, Kaja, if you don't stop that, I'll" he broke off with a gasp.

"You'll what?" she grinned impishly.

He growled and grabbed her hand, raising up to pin it to one side as he attacked the side of her neck, nipping, licking, and kissing his way down from her ear to the juncture of neck and shoulder. There he bit, gently at first, but when she inhaled, eyes wide, and turned her head invitingly he obliged, biting harder until she moaned.

His lower body was still lying against hers, and she shifted under him provocatively. His breathing quickened along with the tempo of his attack on her neck. _Maker, if he doesn't do something soon!_ "Garrett," she said in a strangled voice, "I'm seriously about to kill you if you don't."

He didn't answer in words, but she felt the laugh rumbling in his chest as he moved over her. That wonderful hardness pressed against her, and she couldn't help a whimpering moan. _Oh Maker, either it's been a really long time or he's rather blessed._ The thought wrung another moan from her. He started to enter her and stopped, feeling the resistance, and she almost screamed. "Garrett," she said through gritted teeth, "if you stop now I will kill you."

"I don't want to hurt you-"

She raised her hips and thrust forward, and he slid fully inside her in one heart-stopping motion. She couldn't breathe for several seconds. He was propped up on his arms over her, head bowed beside hers, breathing heavily. His hand still held hers, gripping it so tightly she let out a small yelp. "Garrett."

He raised his head. "Maker, Kaja, I'm sorry!" He loosened his grip and raised the hand to his lips for an apologetic kiss. 

She gave him a soft smile. "It's all right. See?" She freed her hand from his and tweaked his nipple, surprising a gasp from him. 

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you'll pay for that, sweetheart." He pulled back, withdrawing from her and she grabbed his shoulders in entreaty. The friction was almost unbearable as her muscles gripped him tightly. He groaned and drove forward. Words were impossible as he began a steady rhythm. He shifted slightly, changing the angle and she swallowed a scream. 

He slowed and she whimpered in protest. "I'm not going to last if I keep doing that," he ground out. "And Maker, I want this to last."

 _Oh sweet Maker, so do I!_ She wanted this to go on forever, the feel of him inside her, the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her, the touch of his lips on hers as he murmured her name.

He began moving again, slowly withdrawing until just the tip of him remained inside her, then thrusting forward, filling her completely, again and again. Her hands roamed over his body, reveling in the taut muscles flexing under them, the sweat slicking them. 

She felt something building, stoked by the steady, powerful thrusts, rising like a giant wave inside her. He dropped his head to rest his cheek on hers for a moment. She was trying to hold herself still, to hold off that unstoppable cresting, but that was rapidly becoming impossible. She gripped his shoulders. "Garrett" she breathed. He seemed to understand, quickening the pace and she cried out softly, raising her hips to meet him. 

He groaned, throwing his head back, eyes shut tight. "Oh, Ma-" he broke off. She writhed under him as the wave began to break over her, through her. His eyes flew open and he _looked_ at her. Even at this moment, when she was holding on to some semblance of rational thought by sheer force of will, she felt something in her chest twist at that look, at the naked emotions on his face. No jokes, no self-mocking jibeswith crystal clarity she saw the man behind the mask he presented to the world. She felt her eyes stinging, and with a strength she hadn't known she possessed, she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down to her. 

They were still kissing when the wave crashed over them both. She arched, her bottom raising clear off the bed. He tensed for a few fast, hard thrusts, the last one feeling as if he intended to drive completely through her, and the world exploded.

*  
*  
*

Awareness returned slowly. She had trouble getting a breath and she realized he had collapsed atop her, his weight nearly crushing her. She didn't want him to move, though; it felt comforting. His hair tickled the side of her face where his head rested next to hers. She raised an arm that seemed to weigh an enormous amount to stroke his hair. 

He mumbled something unintelligible. "What?" she tried to say, and failed for lack of air. 

The pressure on her immediately disappeared as he raised himself up on his elbows. "Andraste's tits, Kaja, why didn't you say something? Are you okay?"

She smiled blearily up at him. "I feel sort of melty," she mumbled. 

His slightly worried look was replaced by a smile. "'Melty' is not a word." He brushed strands of sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. 

"Is now," she insisted. "I made it." She noted resentfully that he didn't seem to be at all 'melty' then she saw his arms trembling slightly from holding himself above her. She chuckled and he winced as her muscles tensed around him. 

"Don't do that," he hissed. Of course, that only made her laugh harder. He groaned and rolled off of her onto his back. "Maker preserve us, I think you've killed me."

Feeling bereft, she managed to turn over to face him, throwing an arm across his chest and nestling her head on his shoulder. "Mmm, don't say that. If you're dead, we can't do it again."

There was almost a panicked note in his voice when he turned his head to look at her. "Now?!"

She giggled. "I don't want to move right now. Maybe not for a few days." She yawned.

"Oh good. Not that I wouldn't want to," he hastened to add, "just Maker's breath, I really would be dead!" He paused. "And then who would everyone have to look up to?" He smirked.

She quirked an eyebrow, a cutting rejoinder on her lips and remembered. Remembered that frozen moment when she saw his soul, and what he did to hide it. 

She smiled gently. He was obviously expecting her to respond sarcastically; when she only smiled he looked confused. The smirk faded, and he leaned in to kiss her lightly.

The air was beginning to feel definitely cool on her bare skin, and she shivered. He released her to pull the bedcovers down, scooping her up to deposit her gently under them before sliding in with her. She snuggled up against him. She was half asleep when she felt his chest rumble in a low chuckle. "Mmm, what?" she murmured. 

He kissed her ear. "I wasn't joking about the earlobes. They're rather adorable." She smiled without opening her eyes and he continued more softly. "I don't know where you came from, or why you're here in this city, or here with me now, but" he trailed off and she opened her eyes, tilting her head up to look at him. His eyes were dark, no hint of humor. His arms tightened around her. "I'm afraid you'll remember, and I won't see you again."

"I I'm not sure I want to remember, anymore." She cupped her hands to his face and kissed him. He responded almost desperately. When they parted she stroked her thumb along his cheekbone tenderly, reassuringly. "But I'm not going to disappear before morning,' she half-grinned, trying for levity.

He smiled back. "Right. I don't think I'll have any trouble sleeping tonight; I seem to be extremely tired for some reason." He winked and she giggled. He tucked her head under his chin. "Good night, bright-eyes."

He murmured something else but she was already asleep.

 

*****

Kaja snuggled deeper into her pillow, sighing contentedly. She reached out absently, frowning when her hand encountered nothing. Finally opening her eyes, she stared in confusion at the other side of the bed. Why had she thought someone should be there? It wasn't like anyone shared her bed, although she wouldn't mind waking up next to Anders, or Fenris. Vague snippets of her dream floated in her head and she shook it sharply. A man's face, laughter in his warm brown eyes, dark hair and beard, with the roguish smile of a thoroughgoing scamp on his lips... she'd never seen anyone like that in her life! Why would she dream--?

A tap came on the door. "Messere Hawke? Breakfast is ready."

"Coming, Bodahn." Sighing, she swung her legs over to rest on the floor. Might as well get moving; she had lot to do today. She stood up, the fragments already blurring. Odd how that face seemed to stay with her, though.

*****

_Mist swirls in obscure patterns, or is it mist? Perhaps there are no patterns, only random chance. Fingers of what may be mist seem to solidify, becoming something almost recognizable, before melting away, back to the formless void._

_*so, what was the point of that little exercise?* It's not a voice, nothing that... concrete. Just as the words are not really words, not here. More like... ideas._

_**you were curious, were you not? about the dreamers?**_

_*no, i was not. too many of our kind have fallen to that curiosity, and become... less.*_

_**they hunger for experience, as we do**_

_A frisson of derision. *shortsighted. there are so many realities to sip from, why limit themselves by only tasting one idea/emotion/food*_

_Amusement. **they lack power to touch other dimensions. not all are like us**_

_*truei still wonder at your motives for that-*_

_**curiosity. each is a prime factor in their reality, one to which forces are drawn to, and shaped by. putting two such in proximity to each otheri wanted to see what would happen.**_

_*nothing happened*_

_**true. ah well. there are many realities.**_

 

*****

Garrett flailed backwards as painful, burning light erupted around him. But he didn't go far, because the sheets were wrapped in such tight knots around his leg that he only half fell off the bed, instead of going tumbling to the floor.

He watched bleary eyed and upside down as his mother continued to march angrily from window to window jerking open the curtains. With each new burst of sunlight he winced at the agonising shards it sent through his head and with a great degree of difficulty managed to lever himself back up onto the bed. He buried his face in the pillow and listened to the drone of another one of his apparently well-deserved chastisements.

" and I've never been so embarrassed in all my life, and I all asked was for you to be sensible for a few hours and maybe act like an adult instead of an overgrown child. But no, you had to cavort like a spoilt toddler with those terrible friends of yours, and it will cost a fortune to repair the chandelier, and Prince Vael said that-"

He tuned her out, pressing his face deeply into the pillow with a groan. And then he paused.

"Sandalwood?" he murmured, taking another sniff of the pillow. Yup, definitely sandalwood and somehow definitely female. What on earth

He propped himself onto his elbow and looked around the room. His mother was still in mid argument, and he didn't really want to risk interrupting her but "Mother, was I, um, paying attention to anyone in particular last night?"

"What?" she snapped, spinning to face him. Her expression dropped and she raised her eyes to the roof. "And Blessed Andraste, you threw your good clothes all over the floor! It will take Bodahn hours to get them cleaned and pressed and oh Maker, this tunic is torn! Garrett, I thought I raised you better than this!"

Sandalwood curled around him, and for a moment he thought he could hear someone laugh teasingly at him. Someone female. "Mother!" he said, wincing when raising his voice turned out to be a terrible idea. "Were there any guests last night that I liked? Any one at all?"

She flapped her hand irritatingly, as if it were hardly important. "Oh, you danced with that elf girl two or three times, but you were far more interested in making a spectacle of yourself. How will I lift my head in public now?" The rant continued and he flopped backwards on the mattress in resignation, letting her run herself to a natural stopping point. It was a long time coming, but when she finally stormed from the room wailing about 'irresponsible boys without a hint of maturity' he breathed a sigh of relief

 and immediately punched the pillow beside him when all he could smell was sandalwood and _her_. Although apparently no 'her' even existed; it wasn't like he could remember anyone, and his mother would certainly have screeched about that if he'd been acting inappropriate with a woman the night before.

He staggered upright, hoping that Anders would not be disinclined to help with a hangover tonic- because from memory the mage had sworn off giving them to him until he learned a lesson- when a glint of silver by the foot of the bed caught his eyes in the sunlight. Bending down, he picked up a delicate charm hanging from a chain that seemed so fine that it could have been made of spiders web. He realised he was holding his breath, and as he ran his thumb over the front of the disk he felt a frown creeping over his face as he stared at the basic etching of a hawk in the silver. Turning it over, he squinted to make out the flourished writing while his head screamed at the injustice of such hard work while still so hung-over.

_To Kaja, Love Mother._

At the name, he immediately had a flash of bright eyes in his memory; he corrected himself. Silver eyes. Well that didn't make any sense, no one had silver eyes.

Maybe maybe he'd stolen it from some fragile young lady the night before during a dance, as a way to amuse himself while she tittered and giggled inanely? Maybe he'd snatched a kiss from someone and this was a token to remember the moment? Well done at remembering, Garrett, he berated himself.

Kaja the name seemed important. He shrugged, walking over to his chest of drawers and tucking it in amongst his socks. Whoever she was, if she wanted it back she'd come and ask for it eventually. Otherwise, he'd just to ask around until he found her and take it back to her.

He grinned. Maybe that would be fun. Garrett Hawke, gentleman extraordinaire and saviour of missing jewellery. On a whim, he took it back out of the drawer and put it into his pocket.

After all, he never knew when he might run into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love and appreciation to Defira for letting me borrow her Garrett Hawke, beta-ing for me and for writing his bit at the end.  
> She also took off and wrote a sequel, Two Hawkes Reloaded. Chapter 1: http://fav.me/d3lnud5


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